


your heart is a slow train coming

by CloudCover (RainyForecast)



Series: Hockey RPF Tumblr Prompts [6]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Fluff, Kidfic, Kinda?, M/M, Wishbabies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-28 08:22:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10827471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainyForecast/pseuds/CloudCover
Summary: There she is. Just like in the stories, in every movie and TV show and novel with a storybook ending.(aka, welcome to thetrope, Sidgeno newbies)Tumblr prompt:icosahedonist asked:wishbabies?? or any babies, I am really just needing... fluffy, wholesome, sid and geno and baby fic





	your heart is a slow train coming

**Sid**

Sid’s first sensation when he wakes up the morning after the Cup celebration is a kind of wordless despair. What has he done. Geno’s still asleep next to him, sprawled out in Sid’s bed, practically on Sid’s pillow, neck littered with kiss marks Sid put there. Last night is a confused haze of champagne and feeling invincible. On top of the fucking world. Braver than he’s ever felt. And the feeling that he could have anything he’d ever wanted. Or, anything he’d pined and futilely wished for and sternly buried his feelings for, never to see the light of day. He’s 28, for fuck’s sake. Too old for stupid-ass one night stands.

 

Except now he’s done it. Gone and slept with Geno. He’s not worried about Geno regretting it, not really. Geno had seemed to enjoy himself immensely. Sid crosses his arms and shivers a little at the memory of Geno’s rasped out “want, Sid? I’m want. Give it to you _good_ ” before they’d stumbled across the street from Mario’s. Ending up here, _in Sid’s bed._ Sid needs to get up. He needs a minute.

 

In the kitchen, he makes coffee, and then just kind of stares at the mug in his hands. Sure, Geno’d enjoyed the sex, and it was Geno, he’d be nice about it all. Go out the door with a chirp tossed over his shoulder. Back to his own place, back to dating small, perfect, terrifyingly beautiful Russian models. Because that was the problem. Sid wasn’t what Geno wanted. Sid had always tried to hide the way he felt for a thousand reasons, one of which was his own protection. It hurt enough, being in love with Geno for nearly a decade. No reason to torture himself further with what he could never have. He sets the coffee mug down and buries his face in his hands.

 

He isn’t quite sure what breaks him from his fugue of regret. A sound, a gut instinct. Fate. Vague ideas of getting some fresh air. Whatever the reason, he finds himself opening his front door. And there—

 

There she is. Just like in the stories, in every movie and TV show and novel with a storybook ending. Like what happens for so many others but what he’d never thought would ever happen to him. The baby is tiny, wrapped in an impossbly white and impossibly soft blanket.  She’s asleep, and he knows she’ll stay that way until he touches her.

 

He falls to his knees in the doorway, reaching out a trembling hand to tug on a corner of the blanket. There’s a name embroidered on it.

 

 _Valentina_ _Evgenievna Crosby_ , it reads, in flowing script. He feels like he’s been punched in the gut.

 

She has soft dark hair that looks like it’s going to curl when it gets longer. Her tiny fists are curled up next to her face in sleep, and when he gently stokes her soft cheek with the back of one bent finger, the eyes she opens are bright hazel. The shape of them, though, is all Geno. Sid loves her instantly and fiercely.

Sid draws in a shuddering breath. He wanted Geno so much, wanted a future with him so much, that he did this. What— what is Geno going to say to this? There’s no hiding who she is.

 

He gathers her carefully up into his arms. She makes small, soft noises, and Sid’s voice cracks as he speaks to her.

 

“Hi, hi sweetheart. Hi, beautiful.”

 

**Geno**

Zhenya wakes up in stages. He’s lying in a patch of morning sun, and he feels warm and lazy, limbs heavy and relaxed in the way that means he had a fucking (ha) amazing time last night. He sighs and rubs his face into the pillow he’s lying on. It smells good. Not like his own, like—

 

Sid.

 

And then everything rushes back at once. How, what— He remembers Sid swaying into him at the Cup party, the way he looked at  Zhenya, the bitten red of his ridiculous lips, the solidity of his body pressing against Zhenya’s. Sid’s always been beautiful. That’s an indisputable fact. The sky is blue, Russian tea is superior to American tea, and Sidney Crosby is gorgeous. And last night, Zhenya’d thought to himself, “why not?” and they’d fallen into bed together. What on earth was going to happen now?

 

His stupor is interrupted by Sid calling his name from the doorway of the bedroom. Sid’s voice sounds hoarse and strange, and when Zhenya turns to look, his mind goes blank.

 

Sid’s standing in the doorway, just in a ratty pair of pajama pants. His hair is sticking up everywhere, the morning light is falling warmly all around him and he looks soft and—

 

He’s holding a baby. He’s got a tiny dark head cradled in the curve where his neck meets his shoulder, and the hand that’s supporting the baby’s back covers it entirely. So, so tiny.

 

It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, and he can’t breathe.

  


_This_ , his entire being screams at him. _This, this, this._

  


Sid’s eyes are bright and frightened, and he looks like he’s facing a Shea Weber slapshot as Zhenya rises and walks over to them both. Sid. And the baby. And unless Sid’s just gone baby-napping (not entirely unthinkable), it’s _theirs_. Zhenya reaches out to cradle the fragile curve of the baby’s head in his hand. Sid slides him? her? down to the crook of his arm so Zhenya can see the face. Beautiful. Big eyes the same color as Sid’s.

 

“She’s a girl,” Sid croaks. “Her name’s Valentina. Valentina Evgenievna Crosby.” Zhenya’s heart feels too full to even understand what it’s full of. He wordlessly reaches for her, for his _daughter_. She’s warm and light in his arms. His and Sid’s daughter, fuck.

 

“Sid,” he manages. “Sid. Means we love each other. Or baby doesn’t come. How— How I don’t know? Don’t know how I feel?”

 

“Maybe you don’t, maybe it was a mista—”

 

“NO,“ Zhenya interrupts. “Magic never wrong. You know this. You love me, Sid?”

 

Sid has tears shimmering in his eyes, and it guts Zhenya to see. Sid should never wear the expression he’s wearing now, ever. Not if Zhenya can help it.

 

“Yes,” Sid says, low, and broken. “For a long time. Almost from the time I met you.”

 

“Sid.” Zhenya has to sink down to sit on the bed, Valentina still cradled carefully in his arms. “ _Sid_. So sorry, didn’t know—”

 

Sid laughs, a little hysterically. “I didn’t want you too.” And Zhenya will deal with all of this later. Right now, he needs to make sure Sid knows about the certainty singing through Zhenya’s bones.

 

“Didn’t know. Or maybe, didn’t understand. Most stupid. But, moment I see you and her, I’m know. Understand. Look, Sid.” He angles Valentina--Valya’s, face towards Sid, and Sid comes closer. “Look. She perfect. And you. You always _everything_. Most important. I’m just not understand before.” He laughs ruefully and shakes his head. Sid slowly sits beside him, and reaches out to take one of one of Valya’s hands. She wraps his finger in her little fist and hold on. Zhenya hadn’t ever dreamed absolute joy could be so swift and so complete. He leans over and kisses Sid’s hair. Sid sucks in a breath.

 

“G. You mean it?”

 

Zhenya’s never been so sure of anything in his entire life. “Yes, Sid.” And he kisses Sid again, on the mouth this time. They break apart, laughing, when Valya starts fussing a little between them.

 

“Fussy,” Zhenya says, grinning. “Like dad.”

 

“Shut up, “ Sid retorts, and takes her back into his arms. “She’s hungry. We need to get ahold of some formula and feed her. Oh fu— fudge, we need diapers, and a crib and—” He looks like he’s going to hyperventilate. Zhenya soothes him with another kiss.

  
“Shhh. It be okay. We will get all. Don’t worry. “ And Zhenya wraps his arms around his family, and buries his face in Sid’s hair, and wonders how he ever got so damn lucky.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a Tumblr prompt fill and is un-beta'd. 
> 
> Title is from For The Foxes' ["Running Back To You" ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cIVIKdqxXp8)  
>  Spotify recommended the song to me and I've been listening to it all week. 
> 
>  
> 
> You can find me as [creaturesofnarrative ](http://creaturesofnarrative.tumblr.com/) (main) and [knifeshoeoreofight](http://knifeshoeoreofight.tumblr.com/) (hockey blog) on Tumblr, and as RainyForecast on Twitter. Come say hi and cry with me about how hockey both real and fictional has eaten our lives.


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